“Fuck,” Roman grumbles, running a hand through his hair.
Stepping to the sink, I turn on the water and splash my face again. In the mirror, I watch Roman press against his dick, adjusting it so he can open the door. With the swagger I’m used to seeing him with, he opens the door and smiles at the person outside.
“Sorry about that. Didn’t realize it was locked.” And just like that, he’s back to normal.
Without so much as a backward glance, he’s gone, like nothing happened.
Chapter Eleven
Jonah
Back in the theater, Roman is sitting next to Mary. Determination fuels me as I make my way to the row behind them and sit directly behind Roman. He lifts an eyebrow and turns his head just enough to see me, that damn smirk once again lifting his perfect lips.
We sit for a while, lost in the story playing on the screen. Mary leans into Roman, looking at him like she wants him to kiss her. He moves closer to her and I shoot my arm out between them.
Mary jumps like she forgot I was there as I reach for a handful of popcorn that’s once again in Roman’s lap.
“Just needed a snack,” I tell her, popping a piece in my mouth.
Roman knows exactly what’s happening, and he seems to find it amusing, if the smile on his face is anything to go by. His thumb brushes across his lip as he turns back to the movie. Mary has her arms crossed over chest, her foot bobbing in irritation in the air.
I know she’s going to rip into me later, but it’ll be worth it. I refuse to let him intimidate me or push me around.
The movie captures our attention once again, and we sit to watch. During a bright spot in the movie, I see Roman’s hand on Mary’s thigh. Leaning forward, I push against the raised arm rest and reach for another handful of popcorn.
“What the hell, Jonah?” Mary hiss.
“Sorry, I slipped.”
Roman shakes his head, his hand covering a smile.
He keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the movie, but I keep a close watch on him. When the lights turn up, we all stand. Roman has turned toward Mary with the bucket of popcorn still in his hand. Without a second thought, I reach for another handful; the bucket bumping into his groin.
Roman looks at me with both eyebrows lifted and an “oh, really” look on his face.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Mary hisses.
“I’m hungry,” I say with a shrug, popping a few pieces into my mouth.
Roman takes the bucket and pushes it against my chest. “Here ya go, buddy.”
The impression of his dick pushing against his jeans has Mary gasping and me swallowing thickly.
Crap.
He’s not lacking in the dick department.
Roman looks directly at me, but I refuse to look away first. “Let’s get you fed, then, huh?”
“Um…” Mary’s voice has him turning toward her.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing a little lotion can’t fix later.” He winks at her, drapes his arm around her shoulders and leads her out of the theater.
They disappear around the corner, and I force myself to take a deep breath. Damn.
I make my way to the lobby, throwing the popcorn away as I go. By the time I catch up with them, Roman has his arm around Mary, laughing. They look good together. She deserves to be happy, laughing. If only he wasn’t an asshole.
“Let’s get some burgers. Come on,” Roman says with a jerk of his head toward the parking lot.
He leads us to his truck, once again opening the doors for Mary and me. It’s weird, but I say nothing. I don’t know what his play is, but it’s also not hurting anything.
We grab burgers, fries, and chocolate shakes, then head out on some back road I haven’t been to.
“Where are we going?” Mary voices the same question I have.
“We have a little town legend. I figured you, being from out of town, might want to see it.” Roman’s blue eyes sparkle with mischief when they meet mine in the mirror.
The forest is thick as we drive down the dirt road. There are no signs or houses, nothing. It’s nerve-wracking being so far away from town. Do I think Roman would hurt us? I’m not sure.
The single lane road opens up to a clearing, and Roman shifts into park. An old wooden sign with “Kenton Tunnel” carved into it sits in front of a brick tunnel, covered in spray paint. Something happened here. You can feel it. It’s dark, heavy on your chest.
The trees surrounding the area sway with a light breeze, but there’s no sound. No birds or crickets.
“What is this?” I ask, stepping down from the truck.
The spray-painted tags make this place stand out, but why is it here? Black, red, blue, pink, green. There are layers and layers of overlapping paint.
“It’s haunted,” Roman says.
Mary gasps, but says nothing.
Forcing my gaze from the maze of paint, I look over to where Roman is setting up our lunch on a picnic table I didn’t notice.
We sit down, Mary and Roman on one side and me on the other. Sitting sideways on the bench, I keep the tunnel in my line of sight. I don’t want to turn my back on it, but I’m not sure why.
“What happened?”
Mary takes the lid off her milkshake and drags a French fry through it before popping it in her mouth. I grab my shake and take a drink, the sweet chocolate hitting my tongue.
“Well, the story goes, back in the early 1900s, a husband came home and found his wife in bed with his brother. He’d been gone a long time, working on the railroad. Legend says he drowned his family in the river that was running through the tunnel.” He takes a bite of his burger, letting his story sink in. “This tunnel floods when it rains, making it almost impassable, especially at night. But some say if you park your car in there on a rainy night, you can see the ghosts of his wife and children.”
“That’s creepy.” Mary shivers next to Roman, and he drapes his arm over her shoulders.
“What’s with all the spray paint?” I ask around a mouth full of fries.
“It’s a tradition around here for couples to add their names to the walls.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal.
We sit in silence for a bit, eating our lunch and digesting the information. Getting up, I walk over to inspect the tunnel. The spray paint covers up the natural beauty of the bricks, making it garish.
It’s bigger than it looks from where we parked, at least twice my height. A compact car could easily fit in here, though I think the mirrors on Roman’s truck would scrape the sides.
“Jonah!”
I turn at Mary’s call.
“Come on! We need to head back.”
Giving the tunnel one last look, I walk back to the table to clean up my trash, the dead leaves and sticks crunching under my Vans.
The wind picks up, and my skin pebbles with goose bumps. There’s something here. Call it a spirit or a ghost. There was violence here, and it hasn’t left. Evil leaves a mark that rain can’t wash away.
The ride back home is quiet. At least, I think it is. If Roman and Mary are talking, I don’t hear it. I’m too lost in my head. Lost in thoughts of what would happen if my secret, my perversion, was discovered. Would I be murdered in the river running through the tunnel too? Would my story be told as a warning to others? Or would it be such a disgrace to the town that no one would speak about me at all?